


Home, Sweet Home

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Charlie Verse! [8]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Background Relationships, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junior takes a trip home from college for a wedding.</p><p>Home is weird.</p><p>Junior loves it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home, Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> I can say, on the record, this is the silliest, most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written. I mean it. This is absolutely ridiculous. Grif’s kid, Lauren, shows up here, and belongs to the lovely ephemeraltea. 
> 
> Forgive me fanfic gods, I have sinned.

    The wedding invitation comes first.

    Junior doesn’t expect it, which honestly catches him by surprise, since he’s been waiting for this event to come to pass since he was five. The stationary they send it on is crude, cheap paper they probably got from a copy machine, and the lettering is comic sans of all things, a sure sign they let Uncle Donut handle the invitations instead of mustering up the money to hire a professional. When he opens the envelope to read the thing, he almost drops it in surprise with what it says.

    He always joked Uncle Grif and Uncle Simmons were going to end up married someday, but after over a decade of not tying the knot and getting a kid of all things, he was starting to think they’d procrastinate the ceremony until they were dead.

“Holy shit, man,” he says to his college roommate, another alien who doesn’t do much besides hide in his bunk and glare at the world outside their window. “My Uncles are getting married.”

“Does it look like I care?” His roommate says from under his blanket pile.

“I can’t see your face, so I’m assuming you’re rightfully fascinated with the details of my life.” He leans back in his chair, holding up the invite, which says “ _we’re finally getting married. No it’s not for tax benefits. Show up if you want_.” “I’m gonna have to get a tux. Show up and look like James Bond.”

“James Bond was a human, dumbass.”

“This is why no one likes you.”

Junior refuses to let his roommates commentary get him down. He turns around in his chair, pulling up details on shuttles for Chorus a month before the wedding, sending out a few emails to let everyone know he’s coming back, notifying his professors he’ll miss the last week of class before break. It’s a bit of a pain, space travel always is, but when it’s done, there’s a sense of accomplishment that comes only with doing something somewhat adultlike.

“Tell your Uncles that they’re a bunch of Shizno’s,” his roommate says when his tickets come in through is email, all ready to go.

Junior makes a mental note to bribe his RA to speed up his room change.

* * *

 

Uncle Wash and his Dad are waiting for him when he gets off the shuttle.

They look older in the few months Junior has been gone, which catches him by surprise. His Father has a little more grey in his hair, the lighter strands standing out against the black, and Uncle Wash looks about as worn as usual. But they’re smiling, grinning at him the same way they did when he first arrived on Chorus when he was nine, and that’s what really matters at the end of the day.

That doesn’t stop Junior from teasing, of course.

“Getting old, Dad?” He says, pointing up at his Dad’s greying temples. Tucker scowls at him, but there is no heat to it.

“Yeah, yeah, well at least I have a head full of hair.”

“He’s an alien, Tucker.”

“Point still stands, Mr. Downer and Mr. Bald at twenty.”

They catch up on the ride home, exchanging stories that they forgot to mention in their frequent com calls. Blue Team seems to be winning the paint war, which means a Red retaliation should be expected sometime before the wedding. Aunt Carolina has been dating Aunt Kimball, which takes Junior by surprise, but apparently it’s been going well for them and Charlie, so it’s categorized as good news in his book.  Uncle Donut has made him another terrible sweater, which is to be expected, and when Tucker throws it back at him, Junior decides he’s going to hang it up in his room and try to convince his roommate it’s abstract art.

“Everyone should be at Carolina’s house in an hour. Welcome home dinner,” Uncle Wash says when they reach the house. “But if you don’t want to come, they’ll understand.”

Junior snorts. “Like I’d miss the chance to intercept a Red sneak attack. It’s like you don’t know me, Uncle Wash.”

Uncle Wash just smiles at him in response, in that way he gets when he’s thinking hard, and Junior decides to let him be sappy since he just got home.

* * *

 

As soon as they reach Aunt Carolina’s house, he’s tackled by a much smaller, but no less sturdy, alien child.

“Junior!” Charlie says, throwing her arms around his torso like some sort of leech. She’s bigger, another growth spurt Junior thinks, and when he looks down at her, she looks like she’s been waiting in excitement for this moment all day. “Aunt Carolina told me you would be here, but I was unsure if your flight would arrive on time. I’m so glad that isn’t the case.”

Sometimes Junior wonders what Charlie would be like if she wasn’t raised by a man who spoke nothing by the most absurd formal english. Probably less interesting.

“Nah, flight came in right on time. How’s school? Get into any fights yet? Because I have this sick punch to teach you-”

“Junior!” And there is Aunt Carolina, keeping him from being a bad influence.

Aunt Kimball isn’t there at the moment, off doing work at the capital. That doesn’t surprise him; she’s a busy woman and he decides seeing her at the wedding to prod her about dating Aunt Carolina is probably safer than doing it out in the open. Uncle Caboose is there with his dog, Freckles, and the hug from the man is still strong enough to make Junior feel like he’s being crushed. Freckles tries to tackle him too, and while he doesn’t make much progress with Junior’s size these days, he leaps at the chance to tackle Charlie in his stead. Aunt Kai, a little greyer than she was when Junior last saw her, greets him with a hug and an offer to smuggle him booze as long as he’s in town.

 _Family_ ,  Junior thinks. He missed them. The weirdos.

“Hey Blues!” The yell from Sarge catches everyone by surprise and as they turn, the golf cart on the top of the hill shouldn’t be as much as a surprise it is. It’s packed to the gills, Simmons and Grif in the back, Sarge at the front, Lopez and Donut sitting on the roof strapped down with rope. But that doesn’t catch Junior’s attention.

That honor goes to Lauren Grif, one year older, sitting in the passenger's seat with Sarge’s sunglasses and the largest paintball gun he’s ever seen. She fires a paintball into the air and grins.

“Sneak attack, blue scum!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Aunt Carolina says in the background right before a splash of red paint hits Caboose right in the chest.

From then out, it’s war.

* * *

 

After they run out of paint and dinner is served, they put him at the kid’s table.

Junior doesn’t care, to be honest. After a long flight, the kid’s table is a safe harbor in the craziness that is his family, and much more likely to be free of random paint fights than the main one. Plus, the kid’s table has one thing the other can’t provide.

Pure, unfiltered, 100% accurate, gossip, courtesy of Lauren Grif, age thirteen.

“Wait,” Junior says, leaning in as he takes a bite from his stake (bloody as possible). “You’re telling me the Polks-”

“Oh yeah,” Lauren says, taking a bite of her mash potatoes. Despite being entirely unrelated to both of her parents, she has the appetite of a Grif down. A bit of gravy stains her pure red dress, right on the sleeve. “ I got evidence to back it up, too.”

“There’s no way.”

“Thee of little faith.”

Charlie is mostly silent while they exchange gossip, only chiming in when it involves politicians or members of importance. Unlike Junior or Lauren, she doesn’t care about local gossip unless it involves her directly, which leaves the Polk’s illegal chicken farm as something way below her radar. When the argument devolves into the classic Blue team versus Red, the twelve year old alien looks almost as long suffering as Aunt Carolina can be.

“The was never a Red Army,” Charlie says after they start pulling out the fake facts that have been held as law by Sarge since childhood. “And there was no great Red Victory against a rat infestation. There’s no record of it.”

“That’s because it’s top secret,” Lauren says. Junior rolls his eyes.

“Or because it doesn’t exist.”

“That sounds like dirty Blue talk.”

Charlie sinks into her chair with a dramatic flair only thought capable by Uncle Donut.

“Uncle Simmons and Uncle Grif are getting married,” Charlie says, voice mild, like’s she worried Junior brought paintballs to the table (which he did). “Can’t we talk about that?”  
    Lauren snorts. “What about it? They’re pretty much married already.” She’s not wrong, Junior thinks. The ceremony is pretty much just putting it on paper. The whole Lauren situation pretty much cemented those two’s relationship status years ago.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I got a tux left over from Graduation,” Junior says. He’s pretty sure it still fits, it wasn’t that long ago, and he makes a mental note to double check. Across from him, Lauren shrugs.

“I got a dress. Aunt Kai took me.”

“Oh.” Charlie sounds almost worried. It catches Junior on guard. A worried Charlie is never a good sign.

“Oh?”

“Well…” Charlie says, fiddling her fingers together. “Uncle Donut is taking me shopping for a dress this week and I was hoping one of you two would go along.”

The room stops. The smell of warm mashed potatoes vanishes from Junior’s mind, replaced by the smell of excess lavender perfume and overpriced wine. He can almost picture it now, endless lines of clothing, an excess amount of glitter, pink fabric and lace. Lauren’s face scrunches and she speaks first, using about as much tact that can be expected from a Grif.

“You said yes to a shopping trip with Uncle Donut? Are you insane?”

“Oh my God,” Junior says, his honks lower pitched than normal. “He’s gonna find you the worst dress ever. Of all time.”

    “No he won’t,” Charlie says, but she doesn’t sound convinced, her eyes firmly on her place.  “I did not want to hurt his feelings.”

    “This isn’t about feelings, Charlie!” Lauren sounds more like Simmons now when he’s agitated; high strung and ready to snap. “This is about survival! My Dad’s are war heroes: the pictures from the wedding will be all over the news. All. Over. The. News.”

    Charlie looks like she’s about to crawl under the table. “I am an alien daughter of a convicted war criminal. It is not like one fashion decision will cause my classmates to mock me more.”

    Lauren looks at her with a pitying expression that no thirteen year old should be capable of.

    “Look,” Junior says, trying for damage control. “You can tell him Aunt Carolina already took-” Both of the girls look at him, skeptical. Junior resists the urge to swear. “Okay, right, not believable. How about you go, and we try to fix it when you get back. Just choose the least cringeworthy of the bunch and no big deal.”

That seems to satisfy his quasi-little sister. Junior doesn’t get to say another word on the subject before he hears a loud “sneak attack” come from Sarge in the other room.

All and all, it was a good plan. Of only Junior remembered Charlie had absolutely no fashion sense.  

* * *

 

    Junior takes one look at the dress Charlie’s dragged in and decides at once he needs to burn it.

    “Well,” Charlie says, spinning around once, for effect. The thick fabric doesn’t swirl as it should, instead sticking to her legs like a dryer sheet. “Is this acceptable?”

    Lauren hasn’t said anything since Charlie exited the bathroom, her mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies. Junior honestly wants to join her, to quit being the responsible older brother, and gape at the atrocity in front of him.

It’s plaid for one, which wouldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t for the collar pattern, which is the worst mix of green, black and Donut’s signature “lightish red.” Lace decorates the long sleeves which just looks plain out of place even without the white tint to the stuff that just doesn’t match. The dress has a high collar, one that’s meant to be bent down from what Junior can tell, but Charlie has it arranged more like a jacket collar, hiding the sides of her face. The skirt for the thing is short, which makes no sense with the long sleeved combo, and it too has lace, but pink collars, like the designer ran out of white and decided to make do. But the worst part by far is the belt, a bright pink, almost fuchsia monstrosity with a skull on the front of all things.

“I think I need glasses,” Lauren says at last. “because looking at this has actually damaged my vision.” She tilts her head, a frown on her face. “Was this really the best out of all the choices?”

Charlie’s shoulders visibly slump. “It was the only choice. He got it custom made.”

Both Junior and Lauren groan in unison.   
    “That’s it,” Lauren says, taking out a lighter. “We’re burning it. I will take full responsibility for this. Dad won’t ground me for a just cause.”

Junior stops her, his hand flying out to grab her wrist before she can start a flame. “Oh no.” He turns to look at the window. “We have to do it outside, at least. And Charlie has to change first.”

Charlie stares at both of them like they’ve grown two heads. “You cannot burn this dress.” Junior and Lauren stare at her. “I am serious. If you burn it, Uncle Donut will be upset.”

“We’ll tell him it was an accident,” Lauren says. “Easy.”

Charlie tilts her head. It makes her look a lot like her Dad, Junior thinks, both serious and scathing. “You are going to tell him that you accidently lit this dress on fire.”  
    “Uncle Donut still thinks kids play with matches,” Lauren says. “Believable enough to me.”

Charlie gives Junior a look that is one part despair and one part horror. Junior feels his stomach plummet. She’s right, in her own way; even if Uncle Donut buys the lie, the blame for the dresses destruction still falls on her and Lauren, thus hurting the man’s feelings. Which, in her young brain, is one of the biggest offenses she can commit.

Junior looks at the dress for a long moment. There’s a solution here. Something Donut will buy and take the heat off the rest of them. Something simple-

It hits him in one moment of pure horror.

“Junior,” Charlie says, noticing the terrible realization in his eyes. “What is wrong?”

Junior takes a deep breath. For Charlie, he thinks. For Charlie.

“Charlie take off that dress. I have a plan.”

* * *

 

“You’re telling me,” Uncle Wash says, sitting across from him with a look of resignation that Junior feels is usually directed at Uncle Caboose. “That you ate Charlie’s dress?”

“Yep,” Junior says, committing to the lie because that’s what he’s going to need to sell it. He looks to Uncle Donut, apologetic. “I’m sorry, Uncle Donut. Alien cravings.” More like Lauren, a lighter and a very deep hole in the woods, but what Uncle Donut doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Donut looks at him for a long moment before he shrugs, a smile on his face. “Eh, it’s not a problem Junior. I understand. We all get hungry sometimes.” He sighs. “Carolina said she can take Charlie really quick, so no harm no foul, right!” He takes a step towards the door before turning back around. “Might want to lock up your nice suits, Wash. Those will be hard to replace next time.”

Junior nods solemnly, trying not to laugh at the expression on Uncle Wash’s face. Meanwhile in the kitchen, he can hear his Dad cackling into a dish towel.

_Ah, home._


End file.
